


Acacia

by meragu



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AC Syndicate Spoilers, F/M, Game Spoilers, Mutual Pining, No Plot, Syndicate, story events tailored to how I played, tumblr mirror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meragu/pseuds/meragu
Summary: After a period of silence culminating from the failed recovery of the plans, Evie seeks out Henry for a talk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> me, turning up a year late with thirty pressed flowers and tears running down my face: underworld was gr8 but the final quarter of the book was just skin and bones and I needed more
> 
> || tumblr mirror ||

He doesn’t hear her slip onto the tiles beside him.

The notion surprises him; he’s so used to the quiet, that even the tiny _tap tap tap_ of even the street rats can be detected by far too sensitive ears after a while of living at a place. And yet, there’s something about her, a stealth that normal humans could never even think of achieving – he thinks himself to be a master at the skills required of an assassin, even if he’d never really managed the ruthless mentality of it – but the longer he finds himself in acquaintance with Evie Frye, the more he begins to realize that he is seriously outclassed and outmatched.

Not that he’d ever even dream of taking her on in a way that would result in harm coming to either of them – even now, a relaxed Evie remains watchful, quizzical eyes scanning all areas for any signs of danger even as nothing but a wistful breeze dances by the late autumn afternoon. Whitechapel had long since been liberated from the hands of the Templars, the finishing blow driven by the female who sits beside him, and he feels the tiniest wash of envy cross his lips, only in that he wished he had her unwavering determination to follow through what she had started.

Three years her senior and she had a resolve far beyond her age, even with the training that had been administered to her and her twin brother from a young age. It triggered a part of him that no swords or training could ever produce within, inspiring a movement within his feet and a determination of his own; it allowed him courage where he never would have agreed elsewhere, a reason to fight where he would otherwise hesitate.

She inspired him to take a chance, to not allow his reluctance to hold him back any longer – and it didn’t, even when he was captured, even when he was forced to fight back, for he didn’t lay a hand on a Blighter until they had upon him – and even as he was held, captured with the understanding that the mission came first and there was a good chance that Evie would not even realize that he was missing until long after he would be dead, he felt nothing but a swell of pride within him, for what else could a person expect from a distraction? He’d done his job the way he was supposed to, and if his death meant a Piece of Eden was secure from the Templars, wasn’t that the purpose in the end?

He’d thought of many things in the time that he’d been captured, knowing that it was possibly the end of his line; he thought of his parents, of India and jasmine and his mother’s smile that kept him warm in the freezing nights of the years he spent as The Ghost. And he thought of Evie, a woman who very rarely smiled but when she did lit the entire room with a mischievousness that could rival her brother; how he would never get to see that smile again.

Only it wasn’t his throat they slit with a knife but his bounds; when he opened his eyes all he saw was her. She didn’t smile, much like she wasn’t as he sat next to her on the rooftop to his curio shop, but every word she could have ever said was completely clear by the look in her eyes, a burst of relief that ignited an almost extinguished hope. It was not for long that he got to feel relief, and her final blow – a throwing knife through the back of the man’s head, falling face forward to drop at Henry’s feet – dragged the memory of his blooding kicking and screaming back to the forefront of his mind. But it was not his father’s face that appeared before him in replacement of the dead man at his feet but hers, eyes wide in determination as she calls out a simple _GO!_

And he listened, and somehow they’d both gotten out alive, at the expense of the plans left abandoned in the search for him. It’s the part he didn’t understand; while he’d known from the second he had laid eyes upon her that the two were kindred spirits, that their minds were a little too wired along the same tracks despite the distance and different cultures the two had been raised in – to which he could probably thank Ethan Frye for – he could not fathom for the life of him why she deviated from recovering the plans in order to rescue him.

It was where she diverged heavily from her reckless brother, who did not care how something was completed as long as it was; instead, she was calculating, methodical in everything she did, never deviating from her mission for any reason at all. Only she had, and in the time the two had sat together on the rooftop neither had said a word, preferring to remain in their own thoughts as they bask in the comfort of each other, their only calm in the calamity that was Industrial London.

“I found a new flower.” She announces into the silence, gentle wind brushing lazily at strands of hair too short to remain within the tight confines of her braid. “I stopped by the train to discuss it with you, but they told me you had not been there since the mission.”

“My apologies, Miss Frye, I have just had many things to consider and many of my spies have found me less accessible on the train, so I do like to make trips back to my shop every now and again.” He leaves out his shame, his discontent at just why he couldn’t understand her motives that required him to so desperately need his space until he did.

Her eyes soften at the words, a thought crossing over her as a defeated sigh escapes, rocking her as if a secret deep within her was shaking through every molecule within her right up to her skin. The two fall back into silence, their only serenity as he continues to mull over what he needs to say.

He finds himself staring forward, looking at nothing but the trees that adorn the park below them. He focuses on every leaf, flexing and exercising his vision to extend it as far as possible. She says nothing, does nothing, is just as still as him. In a way it’s just as concerning, if not more so, choosing instead to fiddle and adjust his hidden blade until he finds a way to express himself.

“Miss Frye, I do not want to be a burden to you, so if you are busy, I am happy to talk to you another time when you are more available.” He presses, focus never leaving a particularly yellow leaf within a sea of green.

“If you wish me to take my leave Mr. Green I will do so presently, but if you are worried for your silence, don’t be.” Evie responds succinctly, chin resting upon her unbladed hand as her eyes in turn remain focused on the city before them. “With all the trouble Jacob is causing at the moment, it is refreshing to have some silence every once in a while. I would not seek you out if I did not wish your company.”

Her words reassure him, even in the worry that was the building tension that molded itself between the twins. Their bond was strong, just as strong as it was before but different ideologies of progress leads to arguments that if any other situation would be considered petty and insignificant, forgotten within a few minutes over a drink or a joke. Only it wasn’t, and where he was normally all too pleased to have an extra moment with Evie, the tension between her and her brother was beginning to bother her, which in turn he felt beginning to bother him himself.

“Progress is progress no matter the cause, correct?” he comments lightly, eyes tearing away from the tree and details he believes seared into his brain, only to come face to face with her. She’s watching him as much as he is her, scanning piece to piece to see just how much evidence she can find without having to say a word; in a way it’s refreshing, being able to see a person, to just _understand_ a person without having to let a single word slip from either of their lips.

“Some would say that.” She finally replies, breaking their connection as she slumps forward in relaxation. “I would be less annoyed with him if he would clean up after his own messes instead of leaving it for me. As well as the Piece of Eden search and continuing to liberate London, everything has begun to feel so exhausting. I don’t understand how Jacob can deal with all of this killing so easily.”

The words leave her lips so casually, yet they feel like a tsunami of crashing emotions to Henry, picking at his annoyance bit by bit and strips it away, leaving him raw and confused – two emotions he does not enjoy it he slightest. “You feel you cannot deal with the deaths?”

“Can you? I thought that was the reason you did not like working in the field.” Evie returns, raised eyebrow throwing him further from his comfort zone than ever before – just how much had Ethan said to the twins about him before he passed on? “No one had to tell me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Father always said I was rather intuitive, and as I have gotten to know you, Mr. Green, I believe I am starting to understand you. To be an assassin means lining your life with death, and the mourning of the people surrounding the loss of that life; for everyone has a life they leave behind when they die, though I don’t doubt you already know this. Father taught me that in his words, but I never fully understood the grief until he passed away. I assassinate without hesitation because London needs to be liberated, and Templars still are just not interested in dropping dead themselves, so someone has to do the job. Doesn’t mean it never hurts.”

Understanding dawns upon him, eyes closing as his head falls forward. Defeat consumes him, eclipsed only by what feels like overwhelming relief; his whole life was his associates ingraining into his mind the idea that this was simply the way things needed to be, only to hear someone finally say the words he’d been thinking this entire time. It cleanses him, different in the way her smile sent a spiral of warmth through his chest – it felt real, that one simple passing thought of kindred spirits when they first met only cementing further and further into his mind, a vice that churns tighter and more unbearable with every twist that pushes the two together.

Before he can stop himself the words begin spilling from his mouth; his failed blooding to be being banished to London to the years as The Ghost and Maggie and the tunnel and how he’d lost everything he’d come to love. His new life here as Henry Green, how he had finally begun to rebuild, to finally drag his herbarium out to begin collecting flowers he’d long forgotten since his mother had begged him to help her when he was a child. He intentionally omits how a female assassin had still managed to cause him to question every single thing he’d ever thought when she crashed into his life alongside her brother, still not completely understanding her feelings towards him and while the mission was still in progress?

He knew as well as anyone to never let personal feelings interfere with a mission.

So, why had she broken the mission to save him?

As soon as the trail of words leaving his lips finally began to dry up, she has only one thing to say. “What was your name before Henry Green, if you don’t mind me asking?”

A chuckle escapes his lips without warning, a soft shake of his head his only source of amusement at the situation. “For you, Evie, certainly. Jayadeep Mir was formerly my name, a name I wish to be able to reclaim again one day. When I stop jeopardizing missions.” He adds, a playful tone hiding his self-inflicted annoyance at the situation before himself. “Until then, Henry Green will suffice.”

“We will get the plans back, Henry. The Piece of Eden is not lost to us yet.” He would not believe her if not for the defiance that stares back at him through her eyes – she has not given up, will not give up until Starrick was dead, and neither should he. “You must miss your family a lot. Your mother sounds like a proud woman.”

“In the same way you miss your father, no doubt.”

“I still have Jacob, as narcissistic and reckless he is. It is better than nothing, and our bond was always strong, even if it may seem weak at the moment. I cannot imagine navigating this world alone. Your mother is right in that you are a very brave man – I have seen it myself.”

“You are lucky in that you have your twin, Miss Frye, but when we are alone, we make our own families. They do not need to be of blood to count as such, I have learned.”

Evie nods, an understanding that he doesn’t expect echoing through her, silent waves of recognition washing over her much like the blowing wind that threatens to rip her perfectly pinned hair into pieces. It would be more annoying than anything, with the rest of her day still filled to the brim with things she needs to do before sunset spread its anger across the city. But she finds herself still sitting by the man’s side, choosing instead to let the rest of her duties go for the time being; this is her break, her peace and silence and really, while she had many thing she _had_ to do, there was not much in the world that she would rather do at this point.

“But you’re alone again…” she pauses, voice drifting away as her head snaps forward in understanding. Henry goes to ask a question, a simple what’s wrong when a grin etches itself across her lips. It’s not often she smiles, let alone grins, and it’s a welcome sight, even when his confusion is still evident at the situation before him. “What am I saying? You’re not alone. When we have liberated London, you can go back to India, tell the Brotherhood there of your assistance for us – and I would be happy to come vouch for you, if you so wished – and in the meantime… Family does not have to mean blood, you’re right. You can be a part of our family.”

“M-Miss Frye, I beg your pardon?”

Confusion crosses her features, eclipsing her in shadow as she tries to understand where he just went wrong with what she had just said. She opens her mouth goes to explain that of course while the mission was on she would never allow personal feelings to interweave through her determination – anymore – once London was liberated they could talk, when she’d had enough time to actually think properly without the distractions that always surrounded every little thing she did – only to hear the tiniest scuttle, a creak and smack against brick that appears a few seconds later as the face of her brother.

“Evie, dear sister! I’ve been looking for you. Dickens wants a meeting of the Ghost Club again, he’s received reports of another sighting towards The Strand and we need to be prepared to strike at nightfall.” Only once he’s finished speaking does he see the man sitting next to her, the all too close nature between the two that has an eyebrow raising instinctively from Jacob. A cheeky smirk joins in, widening only as Evie glowers at him in response. The glower screams _bad timing!_ But he shrugs it off without a thought. If she wants to have personal feelings, whatever, maybe he won’t have to hear her annoying lectures on the actions of his Rooks and himself as often, allowing him to actually have a moment to himself to do what he wishes without consequence for once.

Defeat crosses her shoulders, though she shows no trace of it physically; a steely look returns to the male as she breathes a sigh and gets to her feet. Her attention turns from Jacob, who scowls at the disregard for his appearance. Henry gets to his feet beside her, steely gaze returning; the two share a look that Jacob cannot process, frowning to himself as the two seem to almost have a conversation between them without a single word passing either of their lips.

Eventually she speaks, fingers brushing reassuringly along his arm, stopping just short of his elbow as a sudden realization that Jacob is still standing there staring expectedly fills her mind. “I have to go, but I wanted to thank you for our conversation. If I have another worry about it, may I come to talk to you about it?”

“Of course, Miss Frye. Your company is always welcome.” He answers immediately, without a thought, and it’s almost as if he feels lighter, like the information that he shared with her had weighed him down for far too long and now it was gone, he was free to be who he wanted around her without fear of having to hide a moment longer.

The smile returns, only not mischievous in the way Jacob’s grows with every second they ignore him – Henry hopes that the teasing that Evie goes through from her brother is minimal, but knows enough about Jacob Frye to know that that is probably wishful thinking – but more kind, a gratefulness that brings a warmth to his chest and an extra beat to his heart. It’s the best kind of reaction, and though he knows there are feelings he has towards her that are beyond the platonic, he knows it’s not just because of a beautiful appearance or mutual love of academics; she inflicts feelings upon him he’s never felt from another, a hope, a knowledge that in a world lined with death and anarchy there was life and there was laughter.

“We must not leave Mr. Dickens waiting any longer now, must we dear brother?” Evie calls, reassuring grip leaving Henry as she turns to face her brother. “Why are you still here? You know you need at least a three block head start to stay ahead of me, it’s critical that I not need to wait for you, right?”

The smirk written across Jacob’s face disappears immediately, wiped and replaced by a world renowned scowl that says more than any words ever could. With a quick roll of his eyes, he turns his back to his sister, arm extended in defiance as his rope flies in the direction of a nearby building. He’s gone without another word, Evie turning to face Henry for only a brief second, a small apologetic looking greeting him before she follows her brother, leaping from the building and snatching onto her own rope as it hooks into the gutter of the block opposite. She flexes her fingers quickly, a quick one-two-three before she begins, darting across the line almost as quickly as her brother even with his advantage.

He watches silently as they zip line away, the smallest hint of a smile crossing his cheeks as he shakes his head at his own disbelief. He could never have imagined that what had happened to him could have led him onto the path he was on, but it all comes to a head eventually; for all the pain is real, but means to an end if it meant that London was liberated from the Templars, if they could recover the Piece of Eden, if it meant that one day he could go home again.

He resolves that as soon as he is done collecting his information, he should head back to the train as soon as possible.

\--

“ _Ohh, Miss Frye, do brush your hand along my arm one more time!_ ” Jacob mocks, unbladed hand clutching at his cheek in desperation as he continues to smirk at his visibly exasperated sister. From the second that Henry Green was out of earshot he had begun his mocking tirade, continuing now with no end in sight even as they traversed the streets of The Strand in order to find the hidden pub Charles Dickens liked to frequent for their meeting. “ _Oh, but Mr. Green! Thank you for talking to me!_ What were you two even talking about, anyway?”

“Good to see that Alhambra Music Hall will be able to stay open even after Maxwell Roth’s assassination, now that the marvelous Jacob Frye has quit his liberating ways and has chosen a life of acting!” she returns, visible roll of her eyes dominating him as he refuses to be deterred, giving a delightful bow of appreciation before continuing on his way. “Besides, when has it become business of yours what Mr. Green and I say to each other? You are perfectly capable of speaking to the man yourself if you want to find out so badly.” She pauses, giving a final breath of relief as her eyes cross the inscription of the pub the two had been searching for. After a quick search of the place with her eagle vision reveals that only Charles Dickens remains inside, she adjusts her cowl and lets the previous worry wash from her. “Come on Jacob, we should not leave Mr. Dickens waiting any longer.”

A roll of his eyes is his only answer, knowing enough about his twin sister to drop the subject – for the time being. But there was something about her, her internal struggles as she gazes over the male and sighs before turning and walking into the pub that puts Jacob onto a new edge.

In a moment, the two make a decision each on their own; Jacob to watch more closely how Evie interacts with their new acquaintance, Evie to suspend her partnership with Mr. Green for the time being in the hopes of finally figuring out what she wants and needs in order to fulfil the ever daunting mission before her.


End file.
